JustifiedResponse

I stopped for the sign on the corner and took a moment to look down at the piece of paper I had written the address on. And then I looked over to the passenger seat where I had put the flowers I got at the airport. It seemed like a ridiculous trade, a life for a bouquet of pretty vegetation that would in turn wither away and die. I didn’t know what else to bring.

I signaled and then turned right. It was cool outside, but I had left the heater off, it felt good to be cool. My hands were sweaty on the steering wheel, and in spite of the chill in the air I felt sweat start to bead across my forehead. I drove slowly so that I could read the numbers on the fronts of the houses. “3186” I thought to myself, and as the numbers on the houses climbed to meet the number I held in my head my stomach turned.

I wasn’t sure why I was doing this, why I didn’t just mail his personal stuff. I could have just as easily went to the post office and wrote her a letter. “No,” I told myself, I said that I would tell her. I promised him, it was his last wish for her to know.

I slowed the car to a stop in front of the house that bared the numbers 3186. It was an older house, probably built in the 70’s. It had a sloping front lawn and a car in the driveway. It was painted a light blue and had dark blue trim. A leafless tree stood in the middle of the grass, I could tell that it provided shade in the summer, but its empty branches haunted me with a feeling of loneliness that I had tried for months now to shake.

Tears started to well up in the corners of my eyes, I did not bother to wipe them away, instead, I reached for the flowers. I took a deep breath and reached for the door handle, it seemed to take all my effort to open the door. I struggled to swing my legs out of the car and push myself up out of the seat to stand. Trying to maintain my composure, I smoothed out my coat with my free hand, stepped to the side and shut the car door.

It seemed that with every step I took my heart beat faster. I could not stop the tears from welling up, and it was making it difficult to see. I closed my eyes to squeeze out the salty drops. His face flashed before my eyes, pleading for me to do what I had come here this day to do. Begging me to talk to his wife, to give her that little box he had wrapped in her handkerchief. I opened my eyes and gave in to the emotions that I had struggled so hard with to keep hidden.

I struggled with each step, finally making it to the front door after what seemed to be an eternity. My hand shook as I reached for the doorbell, I took a deep breath and then pushed the round white button. I heard the chime from inside the house and took a step back. Then came footsteps and the sound of a woman’s voice, “Who is it?”

I tried to speak, but could not think of what to say. I waited, hoping she would open the door without a response. I heard the lock turnover, and then saw the door open slightly, she peeked out of the door, “can I help you?” she said.

I made an attempt to recite the words that I had rehearsed, but nothing came out. My eyes welled up and I felt myself go weak, my knees buckled from underneath me. “I’m sorry” was all that came out of my mouth as I fell to the ground. The world around me went black.

The blackness seemed to last an eternity, my eyes never opened, but I could sense those around me. They were rushing to and fro, poking and prodding at me. I felt myself lifted and felt the softness underneath me as I was placed on the gurney. I tried to open my eyes but had no control, I could feel my whole body but could not move anything. Was this the feeling that I longed for so lovingly? Was this death?

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"It is certain that there is nothing in the idea of a pre-existent state that excites our longing like the prospect of a posthumous existence." William Hazlitt

Isis

This certainly left me wondering what the heck was going on - if you were trying to start off with something mysterious than you have definately succeeded. I want to know who this person is, and why he sends someone to talk to his wife. If he's dead, how did he die? What are the connections between the characters? I really want to find that out now, and I hope you post more when you have it.

Good detail, choppy sentences. It's a little thing but if you get these short, 'it was' sentences piling up it can interupt the flow, but that's very easy to fix.

I replaced the comma with a semi-colon. However, I'm a semi-colon freak; I think some of your sentences could benefit from them, but someone else should verify this. I don't know if I'm right.

Interesting. Hm.

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The Jackal: Half a million. In cash. Half in advance, and half on completion.
Montclair: Half a million francs?
The Jackal: Dollars.
Montclair: Are you mad?
The Jackal: Considering you expect to get France in return, I'd have thought it a reasonable price

Kimberly Bird

Hi Justified, well that was an interesting opening. I'm very curious as Isis stated to find out what this is all about.
This leaves me feeling like something is missing at the end, not quite sure what it is, aside from the obvious that you left us hanging... Maybe mention how the heart palvatated so strong in anxiety that it forced the blood to rush through the veins, making him become light headed at the thought of seeing this woman.

Otherwise, I really enjoyed this.

Best of luck
Kimberly

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There are two types of wisdom in this world; one is seeking and loud, the other is silent and true. (Chief Dan George)

JustifiedResponse

Thank you for the good feedback, as I revise the chapters I will post more. The intrigue and mystery that was reported was something that I was striving for. I wanted to make sure that the reader wanted to continue to read.

__________________
"It is certain that there is nothing in the idea of a pre-existent state that excites our longing like the prospect of a posthumous existence." William Hazlitt